


mittens and mistletoe

by alexcz



Series: 30day OTP challenge (JohnDave) [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Christmas Parties, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, New Year's Eve, basically just nerds tbh, smooches, underage drinking (brief)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-02-25 17:58:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2630954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexcz/pseuds/alexcz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>oh the weather outside is frightful..</p>
            </blockquote>





	mittens and mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> winter break fluffs and things
> 
> day 1 of the 30 day otp challenge : holding hands

It had admittedly started off kind of awkwardly. The first time, you and John had simply been hanging out in his room after school on a Friday, planning on spending the weekend together while Father Egbert was away for work to keep each other company, a typical set up for the two of you, even at your third year of highschool. 

But there you both were, admittedly pretty tuckered out from the afternoon of joking around, attempting to make some dinner though you settled on pancakes since no one could ever say no to breakfast for dinner, a steady two hours of video games before you had fallen off the rainbow bridge in MarioKart one too many times and John was getting pretty fed up with how you kept getting the blue shells anyways, so you had migrated upstairs to his room. 

You were both sprawled out on his bed, sheets caught around your thighs and John's calves from all the shifting it had taken to get comfortable, but it had worked out okay; John's head now resting on your stomach, his feet up near the head of the bed, while your legs kind of dangled over the edge of it, just barely being able to touch the carpet with the tips of your toes if you really tried. Your arms were extended on either side of you, kind of shaped like a cross if you really thought about it, but you disregard that symbolism because it was just weird, and you were thinking way to far into it thanks to recent English class lessons, no doubt.

The two of you had just been talking, asking questions, some of them things you already knew anyways but neither of you minded much. John teased you about your music taste, and you poked fun right back at his taste in fashion, but he won that argument because half his wardrobe was shared items from you, ranging from sweaters and t-shirts ("You've left it at my house for like, three months, Dave, it's mine now"), and the occasional pair of underwear ("It's totally not weird, dude, you washed them right?? So it's not weird!"). 

But then again, you never minded that much either. You had a few of John's things, too, if he'd only left a reserve of clothing at your place for when he stayed over every now and then, just like you had things here. It was just a thing that had gradually happened, and made sense to both of you anyways, so you let it be. Besides, John smelled nice, so his clothes always smelled nice obviously. You never thought to ask what cologne he used.

Right now though, things were silent after John had giggled a little over how fun it was to feel your stomach rise and fall with your breathing under his head, and how you totally didn't work out since it was pretty soft. You promptly flexed your abdominal muscles, and laughed for a good minute or two at the way his head bounced as he glared halfheartedly at you with a huff. But now it was quiet, just letting the pleasantness of the situation wash over you with a faint hint of exhaustion creeping up on the two of you as the sky outside John's window continued to darken from a plain grey overcast to a dark blue as the clouds dissipated into the evening. 

John's breathing is pretty slow and steady, you note idly as you stare up at the ceiling, and you turn your head a little to try and glance down at him. You can't really see his face, his hair in the way mostly, but you can just barely see how his lips are parted to breathe quietly, and you're pretty sure he's asleep. His chest is rising and falling in steady increments, his arm resting at his side, though bent a little so that his forearm and palm were facing upwards, fingers curling inwards a little in a relaxed state. He looked peaceful. And his hands looked so soft..

Cautiously, you let your own hand creep over the sheets, inching closer until the tips of you fingers bumped into John's. The other's twitch slightly, and you draw your touch back a little, hoping you didn't wake him. He doesn't stir, thankfully, and you approach again, this time going so far as to overlap his fingers with yours. They were so warm, and soft, and the feeling was just very pleasant to you. You linger at where his fingers meet his palm, before tracing your fingertips blindly over the lines in the skin. 

You continue this for a short while, indulging yourself in the feeling of his hand beneath yours, until his fingers twitch a little again, and he lets out a soft sigh, and you freeze, not even daring to draw your hand away again. 

He shifts a little, and ultimately just nuzzles his head into your stomach a little before settling down again, and you think he was probably just a little restless and that he had fallen back asleep, until you feel his fingers brush over the inside of your wrist and promptly wrap around it with a gentle grip. You're not really sure what to think of this, just kind of staring at your hands and the way his long, slender fingers almost completely circle your thin wrists. Until he shifts again, mumbling something about breathing, and you only just then realize you'd kind of been holding your breath. You hesitantly let it out with a sigh, and he just snickers faintly before going silent again. 

After letting your breathing return to it's calmed rate (which may or may not have taken a little longer), you follow John's example and wrap your fingers around his wrist in return. He gives a content hum at the progression, as if he'd been waiting for you to do that, and you can feel his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin at the inside of your wrist, sending goosebumps up over your arm, though the feeling is still quite pleasant and you make no move to remove your grip. And that is how you two fell asleep, completely content to hold hands as you laid together, and things were still just the same in the morning. 

Though, as the days and weeks wore on, time was edging closer to the season you dreaded; Winter. You and John continued to find yourselves holding hands every so often. And it was completely fine. A few times sitting beside each other in the cafeteria, your joined hands resting on John's thigh comfortably beneath the tables. Or the one day you had forgotten your gloves at home, and John had held your hands in his mittened ones to help keep them warm (and this happened a few more times on 'accident' of course). No one openly questioned it, and you and John never felt any need to address it anyways. It was just something that happened. 

But then John asked The Question. You were honestly a little surprised that he had gotten to it first, but you didn't mind. It was bound to come up sooner or later. 

"So d'you ever think about like, _why_ we do it?" he had asked you ever so eloquently as you both sat on the futon at your place, idly eating cereal at 11:32pm, each sitting at either ends of it, leaning back against respective arm rests behind you as your socked feet were pressed together in the middle (though you both had to bend your knees a little to achieve this, seeing as you had both grown significantly). 

You simply shrugged in return. "Dunno. It just kinda.. Happens, y'know?"

You were both the masters of eloquence. 

John snorts and pokes at the bottom of your foot with his toes. "No man, seriously. Like, I get that it happens, but.. Why?"

"Well, it's nice right? It feels nice," you put forth, and he nods. 

"Yeah, of course. It wouldn't still be happening if it didn't I don't think." You nod your agreement before continuing. "Then I don't see why it _shouldn't_ be happening."

And that was that. 

Things continued on steadily after that, through the holiday break, and Christmas Eve was upon you. Rose was having a small get-together at her house, and had invited your group of friends over to exchange gifts and enjoy hot chocolate and such by the fire. Rose always had a knack for cliches when she wanted to. 

But you all obliged, and the evening went on without a hitch. Gifts were exchanged, lots of hugs, wrapping paper everywhere, and Jade had taken the liberty of sticking as many bows into your hair as she possibly could, and John of course got a picture while Rose just snickered behind her hand. 

Then, at some point, you gracefully excused yourself to go take a piss, and John also got up, saying he wanted to get some more hot chocolate from the kitchen. You walked with him, having to go through the kitchen to get to your destination anyways, and that was that. Well, so you thought. You finished your business easily enough, and soon you were on your way back to the living room where the girls, and you assumed John as well, were back at. But you're pleasantly surprised to see John still in the kitchen when you walk in, resting back against the counter with his mug beside him, steaming a little as it remained untouched. 

You took a few almost hesitant steps forwards into the room, perplexed, raising an eyebrow at him. He simply grins back at you, and after a moment he pushed himself up away from the counter and approaches you, until he's standing right in front of you, and promptly reaches out for your shoulders, gently moving you backwards. You are thoroughly confused by his advances, but shuffle backwards carefully with his guidance, your eyes trained on him through the whole progression, up until he stops and so do you. You're standing back in the doorway. 

His blue eyes flick over your features, just as yours do for him, though a little more discreet with the protection of your shades. Though, you vaguely remember that one time John mentioned that when he was close enough he could see your eyes through them just a little..

But that thought is broken off when John points upwards. Confused, you glance up to follow his direction, and actually laugh a little, ignoring the flush you feel in your cheeks when you see it. Mistletoe. This is what he was aiming for, the sly fucker.

"Smooth," you mumble, though a grin easily spreads over your lips anyways as you look back at him. He has a grin to match, as well as a slight flush of his own and shrugs silently.

You open your mouth to say something else, probably about to comment on how he hasn't said a damn word since you got here, but the next thing you know your mind is completely devoid of thought because he just kissed your cheek. And you know you shouldn't be as worked up about it as you are, but it was a pretty big deal, kisses and stuff. Even just cheek kisses. You lift a hand from hanging limply at your side to touch where his lips had just been, and he just snickers a little at your dumbfounded expression. 

"Your cheeks are red," he mumbles quietly (and not helpfully, you might add) with amusement clear in his voice, and then he's moving away, picking up his mug on his way back to the living room where you can just barely hear the girls welcoming him back. 

You only stand there for a few more moments yourself, rubbing at your cheek absentmindedly if only to get rid of the flush in your cheeks. Once that shit has calmed down to your satisfaction, you follow him, and sit back down among your friends. 

(You kiss him back on the cheek when you're both leaving later that night, on Rose's front porch, out of sight of the girls since Jade was planning to stay the night.)

New Years Eve approaches just as quickly, and you had all been planning on getting together for that, too, but Rose and Jade had both fallen ill with high fevers, and you and John had both sent your condolences for the awful timing. You almost felt bad for mentally highfiving yourself at the opportunity to just spend the night with John. 

You'd chosen to just hang out at your own apartment, since Bro was out at a gig for DJ-ing at the downtown celebration that night, which left you and your best friend to a night with the booze cabinet unlocked and prime for the reaping of spoils as you watched the program on the television in the living room. Mind you, neither of you were planning on getting smashed by any means, but a little champagne never hurt anybody, especially on New Years. 

You and John had just been sitting idly in front of the TV, hiding out under the coffee table despite the fact that you both could barely fit underneath it at all, but you had draped your comforter over top of it so that it hung down like a curtain on all side, your feet sticking out if it behind you, and your heads sticking out in front as you both laughed at some of the signs spotted in the large crowds, and people making funny faces behind reporters. 

By this point, you and John had kind of cheated, having opened the bottle before midnight hit, if only to feel dapper as fuck sipping from champagne glasses that you didn't even know you owned, even though you were both laying on your stomachs under a coffee table in boxers and t-shirts. Dapper as fuck. 

You were like, only just a little buzzed on your second glass, since this stuff was pretty good quality, and you never were much of a lightweight on the rare occasion that you did drink, but John was giggling a little already, seeming just as bubbly as the drink itself. It was 11:50 though, so it was warranted excitement. 

11:59 comes fairly quickly, and you both have your eyes glued to the countdown on the screen, John bouncing to the best of his ability in your current positioning, and you nudge him with your elbow to tell him to knock it off lest he upset the fizzy drink in his stomach. He ignores you. 

"Eleven, ten, nine, eight..." you both chant together under your breath along with the people cheering on screen. No matter how many times this day comes around, the excitement in your stomach never gets old, never decreases. 

"..Four, three, two, one-" and then explosions of colour and light, fireworks going off that even from here in your apartment you can hear from where they go off further downtown, and John claps excitedly beside you, a wide grin on his face. You look over at him, regarding his excitement fondly, and then he's looking back at you, mirroring your expression.

You catch yourself, snapping yourself out of your stare before you reach out to him with your glass for a toast. "..Here's to a new year, huh?" you mumble, and he grins in return to clink your glasses together, easily finishing the last sips of your respective drinks afterwards and promptly set your glasses aside. 

And you were set to continue watching the people screaming and cheering on the screen as the lights continued to flash and the feeling of a new year settled down, and promptly go to sleep in your makeshift fort, until you see John's hand pass in front of you to rest on your cheek, turning your head towards himself and promptly kisses you right on the lips. Your eyes widen in initial shock, your skin breaking out into goosebumps and fingers curling into the carpet beneath them as you try to grasp the situation. He's still there, still close, still _kissing you,_ his eyes closed and you can feel his smile against your lips. It doesn't take you much longer to come to your senses and let your eyes close as well as you press closer to him to reciprocate. 

It only lasts for a few, much shorter moments after that until John pulls away, his smile remaining as you sat there, dumbfounded once again. His hand finds the one of yours that rests closest to him on the carpet, and his fingers trace over your knuckles briefly before sliding between the spaces of your fingers, his palm warm over the back of your hand.

"Happy new year, Dave," he says, and jesus christ you're never going to get enough of this boy ever, you just have to accept that now. 

"Happy new year, John."

 

Fast forward a few weeks, January 22nd. You had settled back into school after winter break just fine, and things were just as they had been. Though, there were admittedly quite a few days you still 'forgot' your gloves, and days you'd poke fun at John wearing another one of your sweaters to class, and little text hearts strategically placed throughout your online conversations more and more frequently, and sometimes, when one of you were feeling particularly confident, cheek kisses between classes or on walks on the way home, or buried under blankets in either of your rooms. (You had kissed him on the lips one more time since New Years, and it was when he bought you hot chocolate and brought it to you as a surprise at like, 9pm on a Thursday. You'd kissed him right in your doorway before he'd even come inside yet.)

But this time, you brought up The Question first, curled up in John's room on a Friday night, both of you sitting beside each other as you leaned back against the headboard, your fingers entwined with one another's in the small amount of space between you, both your respective eyewear resting on the nightstand.

After a few minutes of silence after talking about the ridiculous neon tie your biology teacher had been wearing that day, you decided on an appropriate way to bring this up. "So.. What are we?"

Your eloquence knows no bounds.

John looks over at you curiously, an eyebrow raised. "Last I checked, humans, Dave."

You snort, rolling your eyes at his smart ass comment. "No man, I mean like. _Us,"_ you reiterate, and if his deadpan expression is anything to go by, you repeating almost exactly what you had just said before wasn't helping your explanation all that much. You give it one more shot, lifting your joined hands between you and gesturing at them with your free one. The furrow between his brows lessens as he looks, his expression softening with understanding. 

"Oh," he mumbles, nodding slowly. _"Us."_

He's silent for a few moments, but you try to convince yourself that you're patient. It's not long before he speaks again, though. 

"Well, I guess we're whatever we wanna be."

You want to say that you weren't exactly looking for some kind of vague inspirational schpiel for an answer, but you bite at your lip, letting your hands fall back down to the mattress between you. It takes you a few moments as well to speak up again, with another question. "So d'you think we're like.. More than friends?"

He laughs a little, the laugh that was the "Of course, Dave, that was literally the stupidest thing you have ever said ever" kind of laugh and he looks over at you once again. "Well, I mean I guess we kind of always have been? Like you always say, right? It just kind of happens."

You nod your understanding, though this was still all a little vague for your tastes. Your cheeks flush, knowing that you were both still kind of avoiding coming outright with this kind of information, putting it out in the open, and accepting it, but you just kind of wanted to know. 

"So are we like.." and here you hesitate, but only for a moment. "..Boyfriends? Is that a thing that just kind of happened?" you venture carefully, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, biting at the inside of your cheek as you wait for an answer. 

You watch as he gives a somewhat bashful grin down at his lap, his fingers squeezing yours for a moment, though you're not sure if he really notices he's doing it. You don't mention it since it's rather nice. 

"..Yeah, I think so," he answers after a moment as he fiddles with a loose thread in the blanket over your legs. A smile breaks out over your face, and he must've noticed it from the corner of his eye because he looks over at you, and you don't waste a moment before leaning over to close the small amount of space between you two to kiss him. He easily returns it, but it remains chaste, and you pull back after a moment to smile faintly. "Sweet."

He only laughs, reaching over with his free hand to grab your shoulder and pull you onto your side, scooching back down to lay down on the bed as he wraps you into a hug, your foreheads pressed together. 

You pull the blanket up over the two of you as he drapes his free arm over your waist, and you tuck yours up between your chests, gently bumping your nose against his affectionately. He simply grins, and leans forwards to press a few more kisses in quick succession to your lips, each of which you return. 

"..I love you," you mumble against his lips, and you know that's been a thing for a while and that you didn't necessarily _have_ to say it, but you wanted to. You wanted him to hear it. And he does. He gives a soft hum that you can feel vibrating against your lips and where your hands are just barely brushing against his chest. 

"I love you, too," he answers soon after, a mixture of fondness and affection lingering in his voice that you don't think you'll ever get tired of hearing.

And that was that.

**Author's Note:**

> this was so much fun to write omg im so happy w this!!! thx for reading my dears xo


End file.
